12 Hours Tops
by silver-kin
Summary: It wasn't my fault! It was all Sora's fault but did he end up in an asylum? No, I don't think so! But I did! And let me tell you, if I ever get my hands on my brother or his socks, I will kill him! completed version


This thing came to me while I was trying to stay awake in the car one night. The only reason I'm writing it now is so that I won't forget about it later. Since this'll probably take some time to write, I'm guessing _Passion_ won't be getting a new chapter this week. I'm very sorry, and I'll try to make up for it next week. Another thing, this is my first humor fic ever. So, yeah, it's probably not very good, but I wanted to give it a shot anyway. 

Disclaimer: All Kingdom Hearts characters belong to Square Enix and Disney.

**12 Hours Tops**

"No! You can't make me! I'm not going!"

"I know the idea sounds a little scary to you, but you're going to be perfectly fine. Everyone else there has adapted to it. In fact, they enjoy themselves."

"I don't care! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Jumping out the window is _not_ a normal thing to do."

"I told you it was an accident! I tripped on a sock and fell out! I'm not suicidal, damn it!"

"You don't have to worry. We're experts when it comes to these cases. We'll find a way to help you. We succeeded with everyone else."

"Everyone else is MAD! I'm not crazy! I'm perfectly sane!"

"That's what they all say," he pulls my foot, "but you'll see how happy they are now. They belong there," one tug, "and so," another one, "do," a little harder this time, "YOU," the last tug does it, and I lose my grip on the doorway. He drags me all the way in and I find myself in the worst possible place to be right now. Glancing around, I realize I'm surrounded by white. The walls, the curtains, the furniture; you name it, and it's white.

My fucking life is over.

-----

_1st hour_

He shoves me into the room and I stumble a little. Recovering fast, I spin around just in time to see him lock the door. I can feel myself panicking and I rush to the door, trying my best not to start screaming but failing miserably. "You can't lock me in here! I'm telling you I'm not crazy! I don't belong in a freaking asylum!"

The lady standing behind the asshole that dragged me here smiles at me. "I'm sorry. As much as we'd like to believe you, you're showing symptoms similar to insanity. You see, the others also denied being insane, but they really were."

I don't believe this. "What sane person wouldn't? If you get called insane, I'm sure you'd deny it too!"

She gives me another sympathetic smile. "We're sorry, but Ansem the Wise gave us orders to lock up all those with even the smallest signs. He learns from his mistakes, you know," she tells me, sounding a little proud.

"But–"

He cuts me off, giving me a cold look. "Look, kid. We're not sure if you're really crazy or not, so we'll need some time to evaluate your condition. If we find you perfectly sane, as you say, we'll let you out. In the meantime, you just stay right here."

This was okay news. "Some time? How long?"

He shrugs. "A couple of hours or so." He starts walking away, the girl trailing behind him, her brown hair bouncing slightly as she walked.

"Wait! You don't need a couple of hours! We can talk right now and you'd–" _Holy shit_. I can't see them anymore.

I can feel the panic grow. 'That's it? This lame-assed guy carrying a gunblade drags me all the way here from my house, sticks me in a nuthouse room and leaves?! Just like that?! I didn't even do anything wrong! They have no right to do this to me! There's got to be rules against this!'

'But, wait. He said he'll let me out if he doesn't find me mad. That means all I have to do is give him no reason to find me crazy.' I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. "Fine. You just watch. I won't give you a single reason to find me crazy and you'll have to let me out. Then I'll be free!"

"And all of Hollow Bastion will fall."

I whirl around at the voice and find myself looking at a guy with freakishly creepy yellowish eyes that seem to glow in the dark from the corner he's crouched in. His messy silver hair falls all over his face as he lifts his head to look at me. 'This isn't right; they never said I had to share a room! But this is probably his room and Sora's always told me to introduce myself and make as many friends as possible. Easy for him, that stupid-super-happy-go-lucky-brat-of-a-twin-brother. Either way, I suppose it can't hurt to try.' "Um…hello."

"Do you know why they keep us locked up here?" he demands.

"Uh, no. Why?" Always continue the conversation.

"They're afraid of us."

"…what?"

"They're afraid of us! Afraid of things they can't understand! We, the people who tread on the brink of insanity frighten them! They do not understand the way we think so they lock us up! Then they throw away the key and pretend they're not afraid! Putting on fake smiles, they hide themselves behind their masks and pretend we're the ones that need help, when it's them all along that need help! It is _them_, I tell you that need help! THEM!"

It suddenly occurred to me that if this place was a nuthouse, then this person's probably one of them. The revelation left me speechless, and all I can do is gape at the other man.

"Foolish denizens of the light! How dare they treat us this way?! But, I have a plan. Would you like to hear about it?" he looks at me eagerly.

The only thing I can do is nod, still too focused on trying to breathe.

He moves closer, crawling like a demented-something! Stopping some distance away from me, he looks at me with those creepy eyes and I can feel my heart beat faster. "During lunchtime this Saturday which is lunch with everyone here, we're going to initiate war. All the preparations have been completed, and everyone agrees Saturday would be the right time to do it."

He's expecting a question here; I can see it in the way he looks at me. I swallow nervously and say, "War?"

"Yes. The people of Hollow Bastion Restoration Committee will regret the day they accepted the duty of housing us beings of insanity. They will forever woe in grief when we are done with them. And never again will anyone dare to touch us. We will be free to do as we please in the world, with no chains holding us back."

"What…how are you planning on fighting?" That's it, that's it. Keep him occupied and slowly edge back to the door. "Do you have weapons?"

He gives me a look. "It will be during lunchtime."

I stare at him, not understanding, still making my way backwards. "Lunchtime?"

He nods. "Yes. It will be a foodwar." He says matter-of-factly.

"…Okay." My foot bumps into something. 'The door!' Whirling around, I scream at the top of my lungs. "Somebody! I need help! Anybody! Please!!!"

My heart lifts at the sound of footsteps and the door opens. The lady from before comes in and smiles at me. Again. "Hello. Is there a problem?"

"Is there a problem?! Is there a PROBLEM??? You throw me into the same room as a lunatic and lock me in here and you ask me if there's a problem?! Am I the only one sane in here??" 'Wait. That's not what I need to talk about.' Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm myself down, I say, "Please. I _need_ to get out of here. _Now_."

She smiles apologetically. Is smiling the only thing this person can do or what? "I'm sorry, but temporary patients are not allowed their own rooms."

Fine, but I couldn't stay in here any longer. "Then can I change rooms?" Probably with another mental nutcase but I don't give a damn. I'm _that_ desperate.

Again with the smile. Again with the _fucking_ smile. "I'm sorry, but room changes can only be made after one hour of the initial room assignment."

I freeze. "So…I'm stuck in here for an hour?"

"Yes. I'm sorry." With that she calmly walks out of the door and locks it again.

'Breathe. Breathe, Roxas, breathe. One hour can't be that hard. This guy doesn't seem dangerous; wrong in the head but not dangerous.' I turn around to find him staring at me. 'I'm going to make it. I'm going to make it.' Keep telling myself that ad it'll come true. "So, about this foodwar…"

He smiles at me, as if the drama that had just taken place never really happened. "Yes. First of all, we must take down their leader, Leon. I have enquired about this Saturday's menu and apparently there will be chicken soup, peas and tomatoes, and potatoes." He's silent floor a moment before continuing. "It is a well-known fact that Leon hates peas and carrots. We can use this knowledge to our best advantage."

I don't say anything but it doesn't seem to matter.

"First of all, the minute we get our tomatoes, we must chop them up and make them look like carrots. Then we have to pile the peas and tomatoes-that-look-like-carrots on the table. When Leon walks into the cafeteria, the first thing he'll see is the pile. When he loses it and becomes better acquainted with the other side of our minds, we run for it. But we have to be discreet when we cut the tomatoes up, because Cid will be there."

I sit down on the cold floor next to the door and close my eyes. Maybe if I make it obvious that I don't want to hear it he'll shut up and go back to his corner. My hope vanishes when pain races to my neck as a hard punch hits my face. I open my eyes to find myself face-to-face with Mr. Insane.

He tilts his head slightly. Then he moves further back, looking satisfied. "I'm a watermelon."

Rubbing my cheek and trying not to start yelling at him, I stare him. "Okay."

"What fruit would you like to be?"

"Um…orange?"

Suddenly he tackles me, and clutches my neck. "NO!!! Oranges are fruits of the devil! You must not desire to be an orange! They are watermelon's worse enemies." 'I can't breathe!!!' "Say you won't be an orange." He demands.

I try to push him off, but then his grip on my neck tightens. He eyes me warningly. "_Say it_."

"…I…don't wanna…be…an orange…" I manage to choke out. He lets me go and I can breathe again. He doesn't make any move to go back, though, and I start feeling panic again.

"So, what fruit would you like to be?"

I rub my neck, really appreciating being able to breathe for the first time in my whole entire life. Well, the question should be considered carefully. If I were to say another fruit, it might also be the watermelon's enemy–because, really, I'm talking to a crazy guy here–so the safest thing to do would be to say, "A watermelon."

Being completely unprepared for what happens next, I bang my head _very_ painfully against the wall and hear a sickening crack. His hands are around my throat again, and I can't breathe again, and the only thing I can think of is '_Holy shit I broke my fucking head!!!'_

The crazy guy–who is trying to kill me!–glares at me, and his words come out in a very creepy hiss. "_I am the **only** person that can become a watermelon. Do you understand me?"_

I try to nod but that hurts slightly more than trying to speak so I speak instead. "…yes…" 'Just get the fuck off me you crazy bastard!!!'

And he does get off me, moving back to his corner, and crouching in the shadows where the light from the one window in the room can't reach. Breathing again, I force myself to calm down, since if I start screaming like a hysterical lunatic I'd probably be a permanent resident here. 'It's okay, Roxas. You can do this. There's like, what, half an hour left to go? You can make it. Just sit here quietly and he'll sit there quietly and no one will try to murder anyone anymore and we'll just sit in silence for half an hour. Nothing to it.'

"How far do you think nothing goes?"

-----

_2nd hour_

I hear footsteps coming and a door unlocking and am on my feet instantly. Sure enough, the lady from before is here! "Can I move now? Please? Please???"

She smiles. "Well, if you still do want to change rooms now, then, yes."

I push past her and race out of the room. Glancing around to make sure that I'm not still in _his_ room, and reassured of my safety, I relax. I'm feeling giddy, and I think I'll start laughing any minute now.

The lady beckons for me to follow after she locks the door–I swear I heard a 'Don't forget about the carrots!' before the door closed–and I do. "I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. I'm Aerith. You are?"

We're moving too fast; we have to walk slower! If this keeps up I'll be in the next room in no time! "Uh…I'm Roxas."

She gives me a look. "Are you _sure _that's your name?"

'What the fuck do you mean by am I sure? Of course I'm sure. It's _my_ name!' "Yes." 'Hey, I was getting better at staying calm. This is good. It's great progress.'

"Alright." Then she starts talking about the weather outside.

I'm starting to think Mr. Insane was right about the whole committee needing help.

The walk ends much too soon and I find myself staring at another door. 'Damn it, I _so_ don't want to go in there.' Of course, I have no say in it, because when Aerith is done unlocking the door, she pushes me inside and hurriedly locks the door again. I'm standing there wondering what the rush is as she quickly leaves when I remember where I am.

"BANG!"

I jump at the loud noise, about to turn around when I feel something poking into my neck. Freezing, the only thing I can do is think, 'Oh my god, he's got a gun! They let him have a _fucking_ _gun_ in a nuthouse and ohholyshithe'sgoingtokillmeandI'mgoingtodieinafuckingnuthouseand–'

He laughs into my ear and it's all I can do to not jerk away. Then he whispers, "_You're dead._"

He lets go and I drop onto the floor. I instantly get up again to run to the door but he gets there first, leaning easily against the door. I stop moving forward and begin to move backwards when I notice the person I'm looking at.

Long black hair with streaks of gray tied back into a ponytail and add a scar and an eye patch and _voila,_ my new roommate. He grins at me. "Dude, you're dead. Dead, as in, no-longer-breathing-or-even-in-this-world-anymore-dead."

I stop moving, seeing a way to pass this next hour easily. "So, do you want me to lie down on the floor and pretend I'm dead?"

"Nah." His grin turns a hundred times creepier. "Let's play a game."

'Just keep breathing.' "What game?"

"Tag," he says matter-of-factly. "I'll chase you with my gun and you run." He lifts his hand and that's when I notice his gun, or rather, his fingers. Feeling incredibly foolish at having been scared so easily, I accept without thinking. "Okay."

"Great! I'll count to ten." Turning around, I assume he starts counting to ten.

Realizing what I had just agreed to, I look frantically around the room and notice the weird state of the furniture. Not wanting to start the game yet, I grab onto this. "Uh…why are your bed, table and chair upside down?"

A muffled, "Because I like it that way. Right-way-up is no fun." Not missing a beat, he immediately resumes counting.

'Damn, that didn't work.' Suddenly, it dawns on me that he was being serious about playing tag. 'Holy shit, what did I just agree to now? Damn you, Roxas! Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! Damn you-fuck, he's reaching ten! I need to think of something quick!'

"TEN!"

I react purely on instinct and run to the bed. He yells a 'bang' to the spot I was standing in only seconds ago before he notices me next to the bed. His grin replaces the surprised look, and he says, "Clever little sneak! Okay, now we're talking! Arms, reload!" He pretends to reload his imaginary gun and that is all the warning I get before he jumps onto his bed and starts pretending to shoot at me.

I know the gun's not real, but the look on his face scares me more than the imaginary gun did earlier so I find myself running away anyways. Run to the chair, he gets there first. Run to the table, he gets there first. Run to the window, he gets there first, his feet and left hand keeping him in place as he hangs onto the window bars. He lifts his imaginary gun and shoots me in the face. "Take this!"

There's real panic now and I can feel my heartbeat increase to a seriously dangerous speed, but I don't stop running because, hey, when you're stuck in the same room as a guy who's absolutely convinced he's got a gun, heartbeats don't really seem to matter anymore.

At one point, he jumps to the window bars to the ceiling, yelling "Heads up!" and for one scary moment, I thought he was going to make it and he'll actually stay up there for the rest of the hour. Then he proves me wrong and falls to the floor, landing on his back and I flinch at the sound of the impact his body and the floor makes. Then I had one glorious moment of silence as I desperately hoped he wouldn't be getting up again anytime soon. The moment shatters, of course, because he gets up again, laughs, and resumes chasing me all over again, acting as if falling from the ceiling was in no way a big deal. Then again, maybe he does it everyday so it _is_ no big deal but wouldn't his bones be broken if he did?

Not that it matters, since he's still chasing me and I'm still running for dear life.

By the time Aerith unlocks the door, we had finished running around the whole room with him laughing like a seriously psycho maniac and my legs are aching like _crazy_! He was sitting on his upside down chair and he looks up when the door opens. "What? Leaving so soon? Dude, we just started. Be a good boy and play with me a little longer!"

"Aerith," I manage to make out between the desperate gasps for air. "Aerith, you have to get me out of here…"

"Well, okay. Come on out and I'll take you to your next room."

"Traitor," he mutters darkly but I couldn't care less because, hell yeah, I was finally getting out of this hellhole! I was never going to be chased by a wacko with an imaginary gun around the room for one hour straight ever again! At this moment, I was feeling grateful beyond all gratitude.

-----

_3rd hour_

I think I'll take that game of death-tag anytime now.

"Which one's the stick?" he demands.

Obviously, he wants an answer. Obviously, there's no right one because _both of them are sticks!_ But he's still staring at me and I know I have to say something soon or I'll probably get attacked again. I brace myself, ready for the next attack. "Uh…the right one?"

He throws the sticks at me. "No! None of them are sticks! Do you know why?"

Scooting closer to the door, I think from today onwards I'll declare the doors as my best friends. "Why?"

He gets up and bangs on the window bars. I seriously regret leaving the first room now, because Mr. Insane I is looking like a better roommate by the minute. He's done banging now and walks back to his spot just now. "Because in this place, everything is a fake. Nothing's really real in here. Everything in here is a lie!" He stomps over to his bed. "This bed isn't really a bed!" He points to the chair and table and says, "The chair and table's not really a chair and table, either. They just look like a bed, a chair and a table. Do you know why?"

I shake my head slowly.

"Because they're messing with our heads! The food they give us, it has drugs in it! They're drugging us, I tell you, drugging us! The poisons they feed us make us see the world the way _they_ want us to see it. It's a scheme to make us stop thinking like ourselves; instead we'll start thinking like the so-called-normal people! Once we start thinking like them we'll be unable to continue resisting, and they'll turn us mindless beings following their every order! It's a conspiracy!"

His glare is seriously freaking me out. 'Does everyone here have creepy eyes or what?! Because Mr. Insane I had creepy yellow eyes that glowed in the dark, and Mr. Insane II also had creepy yellow eyes–but I couldn't tell if they glowed in the dark or not; too busy running, you see–and this guys got creepy blue eyes and dreadlocks and _holy shit he's coming closer!'_

I let out a startled yelp as he grabs my shirt, dragging to the window. Struggling turns out to be useless, because his grip on my shirt just tightens. We reach the widow and he makes me stand before shoving my face towards the window. "Look. Look outside."

He's standing right next to me so the best thing to do would be to listen. I look outside.

"All those people out there, they're all the same. They're all in this plan with Ansem the Wise. First they lock us up. Then, they drug us and turn us into mindless zombies. They're plotting something!"

Seeing the people walking so happily out there makes me want to get out of this fucking madhouse right now.

"What are they plotting, you ask? I don't have that information yet, but I'll find out! When the war takes place this Saturday, I'll sneak into their private quarters and reveal the plan they're hiding. When the others escape, I will uncover the truth behind the whole committee!"

'I'm so _hungry_. A gigantic burger would be nice right about now. An ice-cream would do, but I'd prefer a sea-salt ice-cream.'

"When I have the information I need, I'll get an army of lancers! Then, at their most vulnerable moment, we will strike and I will have my revenge! No one who took part in locking me up here will escape my wrath! NO ONE!"

You know, maybe this 'temporary-patients-must-stay-in-permanent-nutcases'-rooms-until-they-have-determined-the-condition-of-said-temporary-patient' shit is just a plot to drive them insane. If it is, I'm sure they'd be happy to know it works, because I think I'm starting to lose it.

"So," he holds up the two sticks from earlier, "Which one is the stick?"

I guess this guy's a lot safer than murderous No. I and also-murderous-but-can't-do-much-thanks-to-the-lack-of-gun No. II; at least he hasn't tried to kill me yet. "None of them," I say.

He punches me.

Clutching my face in alarm, I stare at him. "What? None of them are sticks, right?!"

He gives me a look. "Of course not, but you can't answer like that. How do you think the committee would react if you let them know we can see through their plans? You have to pick one of the sticks and keep the _real_ answer to yourself. That way, they'll think they're still tricking us, but it's actually the other way around."

Right. I take back what I said about this guy not being dangerous or anything because that punch fucking _hurt_ and I think if this keeps up, I'll probably walk out of this place with a hell lot of bruises. That is, _if_ they let me out of this place–and they absolutely have to let me out–and if I manage to stay alive.

"You have to listen to me. They have spies among us, working for them in exchange for things they want, so you must not allow yourself to trust anyone. Don't even trust yourself, because everyone here will lie to you, one way or another. Understand?"

I nod.

"Wait, you can trust me, though. I'm trustworthy but everyone else here isn't. So, you can talk to me about anything you want to know about their conspiracy, but don't tell anyone else about it. Okay? Because they'll just report you to the committee and you'll find yourself locked up in a dungeon somewhere below the ground and they'll leave you there to rot and die. Or maybe they'll put deadly poison in your water. Or maybe they'll go right ahead and behead you."

'This guy is _fucking_ paranoid.'

-----

_4th hour_

The door closes and the lock clicks into place. I turn around, more to look for the next person that'll be torturing me then to check the normality of the room. Spotting a figure huddled at the table–which is strange, really, since none of the others even used their tables. Granted, No. II turned his upside down but that doesn't count–, I eye him carefully, waiting for him to notice and hoping that he won't.

When he does turn around, I'm still standing next to the door. Like I said, door's a sane man's best friend, right? He gives me a cold look, before turning his attention back to whatever it is he's been doing. The silence stretches on for a little longer before I manage to find my voice again. "What are you doing?"

He answers without turning around. "I'm conducting an experiment."

'That's interesting.' From where I'm standing I can't see what he's doing. "What kind of experiment?"

"An experiment that would bring many benefits to the world, should I succeed in proving my hypothesis."

Hey, this guy doesn't sound very insane. 'Maybe he's one of the better ones!' I take a few steps forward. "Cool. What's your hypothesis?"

"All frogs have white hearts."

That stops me from moving any further. 'Oh…How are you going to do that?"

He turns around then, and I catch sight of his bloody fingers and the bloody table and that pile of green-mixed-with-red lump of something and _holy shit_. "By dissecting a frog, of course." He lifts the lump on his table and holds it out towards me. "See?"

I think I'm regretting ever starting this conversation. I mean, what was I _thinking?_ "…How…how did you…cut…?"

He waves his bloody fingers at me. "They wouldn't give me any knives so I opted for using my fingers instead."

…

_shiver_

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!"

"Why?"

I stop banging on the door, and slowly turn around to look at him. 'Because you're going to kill me and dissect me the same way you dissected the frog with your bare hands which means your nails are either super-sharp or you have inhuman strength or you know the best way to dissect frogs with your bare hands and they threw you in here because you were on a frog-killing-spree or–why did they even let you have the frog _anyway_?' All of this stays in my head, of course.

His gaze hardens. "I asked you a question."

"Because, you're going to…kill me?" Shit! 'You stupid asshole of a person! Why the hell did you give him the idea??? Okay, wait. Calm down, just calm down. I have to be ready right now, because he'll attack any moment now. Just be ready, be prepared.'

Instead of attacking, he laughs. But the laugh doesn't sound like a creepy laugh; it actually sounds like a genuine laugh. I stare at him and wonder if it's okay to relax now and think better of it when I remembered the frog. Well, what was left of it anyways.

I'm even more convinced of it when he stops laughing and gives me an amused-but-creepy-at-the-same-time look. "No. Killing humans will not be able to help me in my scientific journey any longer." He turns around again and returns to the frog.

Wait, 'any longer'? "Have you…killed…anyone before?" My words come out in a whisper and for one moment, I think he can't hear me and I feel grateful, because that meant I won't be getting an answer and that's very good because everyone says ignorance is bliss.

Then, he actually does answer. "Yes. However, I was trying to prove a different hypothesis back then. The experiments I conducted showed no results other than death, and I was forced to terminate it. It's a great pity, really. So much hard work disappeared just because _one_ person gave me an order."

My heartbeat stops.

Literally.

I start banging on the door again and scream at the top of my lungs. 'Who cares if I sound like a lunatic? I don't give a damn anymore; just get me out of this room!!!' "LET ME OUT! SOMEONE COME AND UNLOCK THIS FUCKING DOOR AND LET ME OUT OF THIS ROOM!!!"

"Be quiet! I am trying to concentrate," he snaps at me.

Immediately, I listen to him and shut up. If this guy was completely okay with killing a bunch of people for a stupid experiment, then, there's no telling what he will be willing to do now. 'Please. Just go ahead and use up whatever's left of my good luck and let me leave. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with pretty chocolate cakes and paopu fruits on top?'

Either I have completely run out of good luck or today is as seriously unlucky day. But, then again, Sora seemed to be having the time of his life with his buddies, so it can't be bad luck because of the stars or moon or planets or _whatever_ because then Sora would have been affected too. That means that this is all just my bad luck. Every single miserable drop of it.

Life is fucking unfair.

I look at Mr. Insane IV. He's still working intently on his experiment, oblivious to the wrongness of the whole thing. Oh, how wonderful it must be to feel that _beautiful ignorance_.

And I am now poetic.

'Wonderful. Now I'm losing my mind _and_ I'm turning into a poet like my bratty brother _and_ I'm stuck in the same room as a murderous maniac scientist-wannabe for the next freaking hour.'

"Would you like to taste some of the frog's blood? It's said to taste very good and it supposedly does wonders to your immune system. One gulp of frog's blood and you'll never have to fear allergies ever again, they say, but I'm not all too sure of it. If you taste it then I can use as my test subject."

'Please, please, please, let this one hour be up right now before he decides to kill me or force me to eat any part of that frog. Please.'

He offers the frog. "Would you like some?"

'SOMEONE COME SAVE ME!' The song 'I Need a Hero' pops into my head and now I'm convinced I've lost it.

-----

_5th hour_

'You know what I said about wanting someone to come and save me? And then that song popped into my head?'

'It's an omen, I tell you.'

"Take Hercules, for example. He saves people and defeats monsters and they all call him a hero. But the question is: _why_ they call him a hero? What is it that makes him a hero?"

I'm sitting next to the door again at what I can call a relatively safe distance away from Mr. Insane V. He's sitting on the chair–which had been moved to the middle of the room before I came in–and he's staring at me. In fact, the minute I came in he started talking to me; throwing about a dozen questions into my face in one go. I haven't answered a single one of his questions but he keeps going anyways.

I guess this is a good thing, since maybe he'll be perfectly happy with juts asking and getting no answers. I know I am, though I could do without the questions.

"Is it because of his extraordinary strength? Because if it is, then it's not right to call him a hero. His strength comes from being Zeus's son. So, I guess it's not because of his strength. But if it's not his strength, then what is it?"

I pretend to actually be interested, hoping he keeps on talking and doesn't decide to turn violent because, you know, this guy looks kind of strong and I so don't want to get beaten up by him.

"Perhaps it's because he continuously saves people from danger. However, most of the dangers are his fault. Hades is out for his blood so, regularly sending out monsters to kill him. These monsters in turn, endanger the people nearby, so it's really Hercules's fault that they're in danger so often. If Hercules wasn't there, Hades might stop sending monsters and there'll be no danger. Obviously, they don't call Hercules a hero because he saves them."

I resist the urge to tell him, 'Yes, they call Herc a hero because he protects them,' and continue to listen in silence.

"Or perhaps they call Hercules a hero because his has a Pegasus as his noble steed."

I keep listening. You keep talking. We'll just sit here like this until this one hour's up because there is no way I'm going to spend more than one hour in the same room as a guy obsessed with heroes.

"Having a Pegasus as his mount is indeed a terrific thing. With his Pegasus, he can go almost wherever he wants. There's nothing that can stand in his way when he can just fly over to his destination."

Then again, maybe the next lunatic is worse than this one. Then it'll be bad because that one could be seriously dangerous, though it's kind of hard to think of anyone else that could be more dangerous than the guys I've already met. Thank god, this one's not like the first four.

"But I'm sure there are other people out there with flying steeds so it can't be that either."

Yet.

"So, I've come to the conclusion that people call Hercules a hero because he wears a skirt."

I blink, not sure if I heard him right.

"It fits perfectly, don't you agree?"

'Just play along and nod. Keep nodding even if the stuff he's saying makes absolutely no sense at all and it all sounds ridiculous and why am I listening to him anyways? Oh yeah, because I've gone crazy. Right.'

"I know it's not really a skirt, it only looks a lot like one, but that doesn't change the fact that he is wearing a skirt! It takes a lot of courage to go around wearing something like that in public. That must be why people call him a hero!"

'No! I can't give up yet! I must not lose my mind! Just because I'm convinced I've lost it, it doesn't mean I really have gone crazy. I can do this! I can get out of here! Think of something good! Think of my skateboard, yeah! It's so beautiful. It was a birthday present. Sora got one too. My skateboard is black but Sora's one is white.'

"I've done it! I've discovered the real reason Hercules is called a hero!"

'Great! You're purpose for existing has been completed, so please leave me alone now. Drop dead and die or sit in one corner until you die but please just stop talking.'

"Now, let's discuss if Auron should be called a hero or not."

Someone have mercy on me and just kill this guy…

-----

_6th hour_

I'm staring at him.

"Take one step to his right and he'll be closer to the right wall. Take two steps to his right and he'll be even closer to the wall. Take three steps to his right and he'll be even closer to the wall. Take four steps to his right and he'll be quite close to the wall. Take five steps to his right and he'll be very close to the wall. Take six steps to his right and he'll bang into the wall and his nose will probably be sore."

These people belong in this place, that's for sure.

"Take one step to his left and he'll be closer to the left wall. Take two steps to his left and he'll be even closer to the wall. Take three steps to his left and he'll be even closer to the wall. Take four–"

I take one step forward and he immediately cuts himself off and starts all over again. Hmmm, this could be fun. I eye him and move forward two steps, watching his reaction.

He flinches visibly, his silver hair moving slightly and I catch sight of his right eye for a brief moment. Then he starts rambling all over again. "Take one step forward and he'll be closer to me. Take two steps forward and he'll…"

I suppose this hour won't be too dangerous. Since Mr. Insane VI is sitting on his bed and it doesn't look like he'll move anywhere anytime soon, I guess it'll be alright for me to walk around. So I move towards the window, tuning out whatever it is he's saying–I wonder if he's always been like this–and peeks outside. There are still people walking about.

Turning to the table, I see a bunch of candles. They look like scented candles and I reach out to touch one.

There's a loud slap and I pull back my hand instantly. Looking up, I can see No VI glaring at me, and let me tell you, even with only one eye showing, his glare is fucking murderous. I immediately start moving away from the candles but he grabs my shirt and stops me. "_No one touches the scented candles. They are **my** scented candles. Don't touch them, don't go near them, don't even look at them or I will kill you."_

I nod, trying very hard no to start freaking out all over again. He lets me go and moves back to his bed. He sits down but doesn't go back to his rambling. I decide now would be a good time to go back to the door. As soon as I get there and sit down, he starts talking again, but his muttering is too low for me to make out.

My hand is still stinging from that very hard slap and well, would you look at that, it's red all over now. 'Red as a tomato. Didn't No I say something about tomatoes just now? Something to do with potatoes, right? No, wait, he was talking about cutting the tomatoes up to make them look like carrots to scare the shit out of some guy named Leon or something like that.'

I think this place is really starting to get to me and I'm in no way surprised when I realize it's affected my thinking too.

I am, however, surprised when he suddenly gets up and move to sit down in front of me. We're staring at each other in silence for some time before he finally speaks. "You know, I haven't watched anyone in a long time. I'm guessing you're only going to stay here for the minimum one hour and then you're going to leave, right?"

"I guess so."

"Well, since we've only got one hour, can't you do something more interesting? I mean, watching you sit down next to the door isn't exactly very exciting. Perhaps you could move around some more?"

'Okay, that is definitely the weirdest thing anyone has ever asked me to do in my whole entire life.'

"Will you?" he demands.

"Okay." 'Better do as he wants.' I get up and move to the middle of the room, careful to stay away from the scented candles. I shiver, feeling his gaze on me and it's freaking me out but what doesn't in this place.

My legs get tired after walking around in circles so I stop and was about to sit down when a loud growl came form No VI's direction. I start walking again immediately. 'Okay. Sitting down isn't going to happen any time soon. I guess I'll have to just keep walking around in circles until this one fucking hour's up. Heh, that's easy.'

So walk around in circles until one hour is up with someone watching me the way an owl would watch a rat is exactly what I do.

-----

_7th hour_

The minute the door closes he tackles me, grabs my arm and practically drags me to the window. When we're there he lets me go and points to the sun. "There, look at that."

I look.

"Look at that hideous thing. That star people depend so much on. Look at that disastrous ball of light and tell me what you see."

"The…sun?"

He nods. "Yes, the sun. The monstrosity that appears during the day and disappears during the night time."

'What, now I'm in the same room as a sun-hater?'

"It should not be this way. The moon should not have to hide from the sun. We should be allowed to see her all the time, be it day or night"

'Ah, I stand corrected. I'm in the same room as a moon-fanatic.'

"The moon is the source of all energy. Her presence reveals our true selves. Without it, we will forever be smothered with the lies or humanity. In her presence, our blood boils, our adrenaline rushes and our hearts free themselves of the many chains of pretences. Only with her help can we remain true."

My eyes are starting to hurt.

"When the moon shines on us, we will remember the ways of our ancestors. We will remember what it was like to release the berserker in us. We will remember the freedom that comes with that release, the joy. But now we can no longer feel it."

'Mr. Insane VII, you've been watching way too many werewolves shit.'

"Why can we no longer feel it? It is because of the sun! The accursed sun! It shines so brightly but our blood does not boil, our adrenaline does not rush, our hearts do not free themselves! There is no anger, no rage. No, the sun's light is wrong. Only the moon can bring to us that joy. Only the moon and nothing but the moon."

The stuff this guy's saying makes even less sense that No III. I mean, at least that guy was paranoid. This guy's just plain crazy.

"Cursed sun! Return her! Return to us our dearly beloved moon! How dare you attempt to take her away from us! You will fail, because we will continue to see her during the night and soon, one of us will develop a plan to bring her back forever!"

Has he never seen the sun before? I bet they locked him up _because_ he hates the sun so much. Everyone knows there can't be any moonlight without the sun, right? Or maybe he doesn't know. He _is _mental, after all.

"You. Have you ever experienced the berserker before?"

What the fuck is a berserker? "No."

"Of course not. I didn't expect you to. Only selected people are blessed with the gift to experience the berserker. Do you know how the berserker works?"

I shake my head, 'cause playing along seems like a good way to pass this one hour.

'We draw energy from the moon. The more it shines, the more energy we receive. Once we have gathered the necessary amount of energy, we focus it into our blood it is done! The berserker will rise in us and for a certain period of time we will experience a moment of bliss as all our rage spills out of us. Would you like to know what we do when we're in berserk form?"

'Sure, why not.' "Okay."

"We take it out on people, nearby chances being our victims."

'Oh shit. Another one.'

"We tear them apart limb by limb. Nothing will remain attached once we get started. As we kill, their screams of agony will rise up into the moonlit sky and all will bear witness to the beautiful event. Watching their crimson red blood spill to the floor, painting a bloody picture no one can understand but us. Feeling it all over our fingers as we dig deeper into their insides."

'Okay, bad idea! Seriously bad idea! Playing along was a shitty idea and I should never ever, ever again listen to my brain!'

"Their bones make a wonderful snapping sound as they break into pieces. Their insides fall to the floor, splashing guts everywhere. Their screams rise and fall and we eventually silence them forever, ending the memorable event."

'Oh my god, why the fuck is he telling me this? And why's he giving me details?? I don't want details! I want out of here!'

"Oh, how I miss those joyful days. If only one could turn time back and live in the past."

'Why didn't Sora wake me up this morning? If he had woken me up then I wouldn't have been in such a rush and I would've seen the sock and I wouldn't have fallen on top of that guy and I wouldn't even _be_ here!'

"But now, all is lost! Never again shall we feel it. Never again shall the moon bear witness to our true selves. Never again!"

'Maybe, if I'm really quiet he'll forget about me and keep on talking to himself.'

"Fear not, however, for I vow I will find a way to restore your original position. Rest assured, you are in good hands, my beloved. One day, your glory will be known throughout the worlds like before."

And apparently–thank god–, staying silent works. Granted, he still talks about the moon and gives out unnecessary gory details but he more or less forgets about me. And since he's not actually acting violent, I can pretend he's just joking or something.

Like I said, ignorance is bliss.

-----

_8th hour_

I suppose I should be used to surprises the minute I move into the next room by now. So far none of them were good surprises, but I can't help but hope the next insane guy I meet will be a little less insane than the last one. I mean, there's got to be at least one person in here who got thrown into the nuthouse that's not really nuts, right? Though if I do meet someone like that, then my chances of getting out of here won't be looking too good.

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about because this guy is just as cracked as the others.  
"What do you mean there's no fire? Of course there's fire! This is a lighter!"

"I think that's a toy lighter."

"No way is this a toy lighter!" He waves it in front of my face. "This thing's real and there _is_ fire!"

"But I'm telling you, I don't see any fire."

"Hah! You're just delusional. There's no way I can see fire and you can't."

'Excuse me? _I'm_ delusional?!'

"Besides, there's got to be fire. The people here gave me this lighter. They said it's something to keep me occupied. So this thing is real." He walks over to his bed and sits on it. I guess the conversations–more to an argument, really–is over.

I sit down next to the door. 'So far, so good.' Other than scaring the shit out of me when he threw the lighter at me, everything else was perfectly non-violent. No choking, no punching, no tackling. Just the pyromaniac and his toy lighter and his non-existent fire. Hey, maybe, if nothing too weird happens, I'll stay here until they let me go. I mean, Mr. Insane VIII doesn't look so bad and one can't help but be hopeful.

Then he gets up and walks over to me. There's a bucket in his hands and I'm wondering, 'Why the hell does he have a bucket in here?' when he throws it at me.

There's no time to react, so I end up getting splashed all over with whatever it is that's inside the bucket and as a reward, I get hit on the forehead by said bucket. There's a loud sound as the bucket and my forehead are introduced to each other. Then there's another softer sound as he drops something on my head and it falls into my lap. I pick it up and realize it's the lighter.

He crouches in front of me and lifts his right hand. "If this is a lighter, then this," he moves it higher up, "is a…?"

I'm wet and my clothes are wet and I'm wet all over and it's cold but he doesn't look in any way sorry. And what's with the joke? Everyone knows the joke. "Uh…a highlighter?"

He smirks. "Bingo! And now you're on fire!"

…huh?"

"You're on fire," he repeats.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," he says, still smirking.

"I am not on fire. Do you _see_ any fire around here? And besides, why would I be on fire?"

"Because I splashed you with gasoline."

"…what?"

"Because I splashed you with gasoline. Got it memorized?"

'Gasoline?! Is that what he threw at me?? He threw extremely flammable fuel on me?! They _gave_ him extremely flammable gasoline?!' I sniff my hand. 'Wait, it doesn't smell like petrol.' "Are you sure this is gasoline?" Mind you, I'd prefer it if it wasn't gasoline.

"Of course!"

"How'd you get it?"

"I asked Yuffie for some to burn stuff with and she gave this to me."

I sniff at it again. "You know, I think this stuff is water."

He blinks at me. The he grabs the lighter. "What do you mean this is water?! How can this be water?! Water doesn't help fire burn! Water kills fire!"

"But this doesn't smell like gasoline." And thank god it doesn't.

He scrambles away from me. "NO! This can't be water! Water is poison to fire! Water is murderous! I splashed it all over the room! Are you telling me that water's taken over my room?!" He moves towards the bed, but stops abruptly before he reaches it. "There's water on my bed! There's water on the chair and table! There's water everywhere!" He jerks away from the bed and lands on his back in the middle of the room, moaning.

I move a little closer to him and I can make out the words now.

"…no…it's killing me…don't let it kill me…"

'He really _is_ crazy.'

Suddenly, he opens his eyes and latches onto my arm, tugging at it viciously. "Please! You've got to help me! They're putting me out! The water is putting out my flame of life! They're trying to kill me! You've gotta help me!"

'God damn it, stop it! My arm is being yanked out of its fucking socket!'

"Please! Make it stop!!!"

"Okay! Okay! Water, stop putting out the fire!" Hey, I'm talking to a crazy guy here, right? If I pretend, it's not like he'll notice.   
He's silent for a while. Then he looks at me and asks, "Did it stop?"

'Oh my god, he believed me.' "Uh…yeah, it stopped. Don't worry," Mr. Insane VIII grins at me, gets up and happily skips to the spot where he dropped the lighter. "So, do you want to watch the walls burn?"

I let out a sigh and move back to my original spot as he entertains himself with his toy lighter and fire that is actually supposedly exist but in all actuality does not. Not to mention the fact that's he's trying to burn down the wall.

…

'How long does the fucking committee need to make up their mind before they let me go, anyway? It's been, what, 8 hours? They shouldn't need that much time to decide! I should have been out of here hours ago! I bet they're just waiting for me to lose it and go mad as well, so they won't have to admit that they made a mistake! Yeah, I bet that's what they're doing, waiting for me to crack! And I'm still hungry! Don't they feed people here?! Oh, but Mr. Insane III said they stick drugs in the food, so I can't eat anything they give me...'

'Why do I even believe him anyways?! I shouldn't believe him! I shouldn't believe any of them, because they're all crazy!'

"Burn, bed, burn! Burn until all that's left is ashes! Burn!!!"

'…let me out…'

-----

_9th hour_

"No! Don't come in! You can't come in! Don't' you step on that!"

I freeze in mid-step. Mr. Insane IX is on sitting in the middle of the room, holding what looks suspiciously like a marker pen. I take a step back out and turn to Aerith. She smiles, moves closer to the door and says, "He has to come in. Would you please let him?"

He considers this for a moment, marker pen still in the air. Then, he reluctantly agrees. "Okay, he can come in. But don't step on anything!"

I stare at the floor. "Kinda hard no to, you know." This is in every way true.

Everywhere I look, all I can see is writing. On the walls, on the floor, on the chair, the table, the bed, the curtains; when I say everywhere, I mean just that. _Everywhere_.

He shakes his head. "Of course you can. I walk around the room all the time and I don't step on any of it."

Frankly, I don't see how that's possible. Bending down to examine the tiny scribbles on the floor, I decide it's either this guy floats while he walks or he doesn't walk around the room at all because every inch of the whole room is filled with writing. There's not even space in between the words. I turn to Aerith. "There's no way I can walk anywhere in this room. How 'bout you just let me leave and we won't have to figure out a way to get inside?"

She gives me another smile. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Leon hasn't made a decision yet."

'It was worth a try.' "Then, we could move to a different room?"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I can't do that either. I have specific orders from Leon to take you to this room if you requested a change of rooms."

'That sucks.' I turn to look at the guy. He's writing on the pillowcase–the pillow the cover belonged to being already written on–, concentrating hard. It couldn't hurt to ask, since I obviously have to stay here. "Hey, is it okay with you id I step on some of the words? I'll walk as little as possible. Just let me sit in one corner or something."

He looks up. "Are you sure he has to come in?"

The question isn't directed at me so Aerith answers. "I'm afraid so."

He sighs. "Okay. Pick a spot and try not to smudge anything."

I can live with that. I move to sit right next to the door. Aerith gives me one last smile before leaving and closing the door behind her.  
He continues writing on his pillowcase and I guess I'm grateful for it. At least he's not working on anything sickening.

Some time passes in complete silence and I can feel myself getting restless. I mean, as much as I like nothing too freaky happening, it's getting really boring sitting in one spot and trying not to move. Plus, my legs are starting to cramp.

Squinting, I bend down a little to see the words on the floor better. They're lyrics from different songs I suppose. I recognize some of them, but most–I'm not much of a radio person, you see–are completely unfamiliar. Seeing no other way to pass time, I read them, trying to place them. After some time, I realize I have to squint harder to make out the writing. 'Why is his writing so fucking tiny?' Some of the words are so small I can barely make out what he wrote. In the end I give up. My neck's starting to hurt anyways.

I look around the room, taking everything in. I wonder how long it took him to write all this stuff. It looks like an awful lot to write. And I bet it was damn hard to get any words on the wood.

I'm still bored.

In fact, I'm so bored I go ahead and start a conversation. "How long have you been writing this?"

"Ever since I got here."

"How long ago was that?"

He shrugs, never pausing. "Beats me."

I don't say anything else and there's a moment of silence until he speaks again. "Actually, I had to start all over again last week."

"Why?"

He stops writing and looks at me. "Because they sent someone to clean my room."

"…they did?"

"Yes!" he's glaring now. "It was lunch time and everyone was outside and they sent someone into my room and washed everything off! Every single thing! Even the chair and table! Do you have any idea how hard it was to write on the chair and table?! It was HARD!"

I don't know what to say.

"So I had to start all over again! Every single word had to be written again! And it's not like I remember what song goes where so I had to start completely from scratch! I wasn't sure how I was going to do it, but I did." He gestures to the walls. "And now it's just as perfect as before."

This would be the part where I shut up and let him go back to writing on his pillowcase. Of course, what person learns from his mistakes? "What if they send someone to clean your room again?"

He shakes his head. "They won't," he says confidently.

That gets me interested. "How can you be so sure?"

He grins at me. "Because when it happened last time I went ahead and talked to Leon. At first, he was going to keep sending someone to clean my room, but he agreed in the end."

"Why?"

"Because my persuasion skills are very effective!" he says happily.

"What did you do?"

"I flooded the toilets."

'…okay. That's definitely not what I expected.'

"I told them that if they didn't let me have my room my way I'd do it again. Cid was really pissed because most of his precious inventions were ruined when the water burst out of the toilets, so Leon had no choice but to agree."

I let him go back to writing and I give trying to make out the words another go. There's more silence now and I'm wondering if this is how the rest of the hour will go.

And suddenly he starts humming.

It's so soft at first, that I almost don't notice it. Then the melody gets louder and louder until his voice fills the entire room. It's a nice melody–though it's not one I recognize; I'm not much of a radio person–and he seems to have a nice voice, so I don't really mind. In fact, it's rather relaxing.

But then everything feels different and he starts singing.

Now, there's nothing wrong with singing. It should be perfectly fine for him to sing.

But not if he's singing what he's singing now.

"I told the witch doctor I was in love with you,  
I told the witch doctor I was in love with you,  
Then he, the witch doctor, he told me what to do,  
He told me…"

'I mean, why, of all songs, is he singing _that_ song?! It's a ridiculous song that's beyond very irritating and it gets stuck in my fucking head every single time I hear it!' He keeps it up for some time and when I can't take it any longer, I said, "Why do you write the songs?"

His singing stops abruptly. "Because I like music."

'Keep the conversation going. Don't let him go back to singing.' "Can you play a musical instrument or something?"

Yup! I can play the sitar," he announces proudly.

"A what?"

"A sitar."

"…is that like a guitar of some sort?"

He looks shocked. "You mean you don't know what a sitar is?!"

"Not really."   
The remainder of the hour is spent on him explaining what a sitar is–and the reason he doesn't have it here is because some of the committee members think he'll try to strangle himself with the strings, but then why did they let him have a marker pen?–to me and me barely taking anything he says in but nodding and pretending to anyways, because if this is what it takes to stop him from singing, so be it.

-----

_10th hour_

"Let us play a game."

'You mean another game of death tag around the room? If that's what you mean then I'll pass, thank you. I think I've had enough of that already.' I look at Mr. Insane X. "What kind of game?"

He holds up his cards. "We could play a card game."

'Okay, cards I can do.' I nod.

He shuffles them expertly, "Poker?"

I nod again.

Mr. Insane X deals them out and I pick mine up, sure I'm going to lose. I mean, cards and me have never gotten along, so I didn't really expect to win. After a few moments, he puts his cards down. I follow suit.

To my complete surprise, I won.

"Bravo," he says, collecting the cards. Then he looks at me. "You win."

"I guess so."

"So," he shuffles the cards, still looking at me, "I'll be taking my prize now."

"Wait, what?"

"I'll be taking my prize."

"What do you mean you'll be taking your prize?"

"You won, which means I'm entitled to a prize."

"Don't the winners usually get a prize?"

He stops shuffling and gives me a look. "Winners already receive their prizes when they win. No prize could possibly top the feeling of victory. It's only fair that the people who lose get their share of prizes too."

'What the _hell?!'_ "That's not fair! And we didn't even play for prizes!"

"When one agrees to play poker, one should be prepared to give something in return. Everyone knows that people play poker to win something."

'What am I doing, arguing with a madman? The best thing to do right now would probably be to just agree.' "Fine. What do you want?" Bet it's something like my shoes or something just as cracked.

"Your right foot."

"…huh?" I don't think I heard him right.

"I want you right foot."

"What do you want my right foot for?"

"To play poker with should you decide to leave at the end of this hour. Solitaire can become quite a bore after playing it continuously for months."

'How the fuck do you play poker with a foot?!' "I can't give you my right foot!"   
"Oh? Why is that?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because it's attached to the rest of me?"

"There's an easy solution to that."

"Really? What's that?" 'If there's a way to give him my foot then I'd like to hear it, because there's no way I can give him my foot without–'

"Cut it off."

I blink. 'Is he fucking serious about this?' "And _how_ am I going to cut off my foot?"

"You can use this." He tosses one of the cards from his deck at me.

I pick it up. Seeing his expectant face my, I look down at the card. Feeling my brain working overtime to come up with a way to get out of this, I try to buy time. "But if I use this, it'll get bloody."

"Bloody cards are good cards."

I'm about to ask why but then I decide I don't want to know. Instead, I sit down and pretend to cut my foot off, pushing the sharp edge of the card against my skin.

I can feel Mr. Insane X watching me and I keep my eyes on my foot, praying as hard as I could that Aerith would get here soon.

For the first time this entire day–I think–, good luck's on my side. I can hear the door unlocking and Aerith walks into the room. "Roxas, would you still like to change rooms?"

Instead of answering I throw the card in his direction and run past Aerith and out of the room.

-----

_11th hour_

'I need to get out now.'

Now I know it's only been like five minutes, but any longer and I swear I'll go crazy.

"We need more sunlight, you idiots! You have to let more sunlight into the room!!!"

'Please, please, please, make time move faster or something. Please.'

"If I don't get anymore sunlight, my darlings will die! Do you hear me?! They will DIE!"

'Stop banging at the door, damn it! And stop yelling already!'

"How could you people be so cruel?! How can you let them die just because you guys are too lazy to make more windows?!"

'If they made more windows they'd have to drill holes in the wall. If they drilled holes in the wall, you might escape and I'm sure as hell you escaping is the last thing anyone wants to happen.'

"One window is not enough! One window lets in far too little sunlight for it to be enough! They're all fighting for the sunlight! At this rate, they will never grow into healthy plants!"

'Plants?' I eye the multiple piles of dirt placed on the floor and table. 'There are no plants.'

Mr. Insane XI stops banging at the door and runs over to the window. "Look!" he demands. "Look! How much sunlight can you see coming through the window?"

'Just play along.' "Not enough."

"Exactly! There's far too sunlight! My plants can grow into healthy blooming plants if there's not enough sunlight!"

'I wonder if he put a seed in every pile of dirt or something. Maybe that's why he's so convinced something's going to grow.'

"I can give them water so you don't have to worry about that! Just make more windows! Is that too much to ask?!"

'Yes, it's too much to ask, you idiot.'

"If you don't want to drill more windows, just give me something to make holes in the wall with and I'll do it myself! It'll be easier that way and you won't even have to pay anyone!"

'Give him a hole-driller and let him drill holes in himself.'

"You!" he grabs the window bars and starts yelling at the window. "Make more windows! I don't know how you're going to do it and I don't care! Multiply yourself or something! Just start making more windows!!!"

My ears are hurting from the amount of yelling. 'Does this guy ever stop? I mean, he's been yelling himself hoarse since the moment Aerith opened the door.'

"Why aren't more windows appearing? How dare you disobey me?! Me, the master of this room!"

He's the master of a bed, a chair, a table, a pillow, a window, and 13 piles of dirt.

"When I order you to do something, you should obey me! I told you to make more windows! Why aren't you making more windows?!"   
'You're talking to a fucking _window_, moron. What did you think was going to happen?'

"You will regret the day you disobeyed me, you fool! I will have my revenge on you yet!" He moves towards the piles of dirt on the floor and for the first time since I came into this room, starts talking in a normal tone. "How are you feeling today? Better? Are you getting enough of everything you need?"

'Thank you for making him stop yelling.'

He pauses, as if listening to the dirt. Then he says, "Not enough sunlight?"

This guy is barking mad.

"I know there's not nearly enough sunlight in this room but you'll have to be patient, my darlings. I'm doing everything I can at this moment. Soon, I'll get you your sunlight."

I don't think there's anymore energy left in me. These past ten hours were the worst ten hours in my whole entire life.

"Don't worry. I have a plan. This Saturday when Leon sees the carrots-look-a-liker-tomatoes and freaks out, I'll sneak into the basement where they keep all woodwork equipments and steal the hole-driller. Then I'll come back here and start making holes in the wall immediately."

'You mean he was serious about everyone being in on the plan? Man, I thought it was just him being crazy.'

"Then you'll have all the sunlight you need. I promise it'll all work out fine."

'I wonder if that plan will actually work out. It'll be funny to see what'll happen if all these people were set loose on the town. Ansem the Wise will have one hell of a shitty time trying to put them back here.'

"Once you've grown into marvelous plants, we will go escape from here together. Then, we'll look for the perfect place to start over. From there, we'll start taking over the world."

'Someone should tell the committee about the plans these people have for this Saturday. But then, it's not like they were very nice to begin with.'

"Beware, foolish people of Hollow Bastion! The time of the plants is not over yet! We will resume control of this world!"

'Maybe I'll just conveniently forget to tell them. That would serve them right for sticking me in this place.'

"After this world is returned to its rightful owner, which is the plants, we shall take over other worlds! There are so many different worlds out there. There will be many more left for us to discover and take control of."

'Of course, if the plan does work, I'll have to make sure we move first.'

"It will be known all over the universe, the immense power of the plants! We will succeed!"

'The time of the non-existent plants that do not and probably will not grow in the future due to the fact that they don't get enough sunlight. It sounds pretty amazing to me'.

"Ahahahaha!!!"

'How much longer 'till the next hour?'

-----

_12th hour_

You know, I was thinking that I had seen the last of the violent madmen here. Hopefully, I'll never have to see another violent madman again.

I was right.

I have seen the last of the violent madmen in here.

But I had just met the first violent madwoman here.

"You bastard! You go near my book again and I swear I'll break every fucking bone in you pathetically puny body!"

"Okay! Alright! I said I was sorry!" I try to shield my face as she throws another punch at me, and move closer to the door.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, asshole! I mean it! The next time you come near me or my book you'll be so sorry you'll wish you never came here!"

I don't believe it. I'm getting beaten up by a girl! "I didn't want to come here! I got dragged here!"

"Well, then you'll wish that you never bumped into the fucking bastard that dragged you here!"

"Okay! I get it!" I run away from her and sit down as close to the door as possible.

She seems satisfied and moves back to her bed. Picking up her book–whose title I only wanted to know earlier–and she starts reading.   
Grateful for the silence, I hug my legs and rest my head on my knees, feeling completely exhausted.

The silence stretches on.

'I wish the stupid committee would hurry up and make up their fucking mind and let me out of here.'

The thought repeats itself for a few hours before something pokes my head .I lift my head to see what it was and find it on the floor.

…

It's a paper aeroplane.

It's a fucking paper aeroplane.

Another one pokes my head and I look up to see Ms. Insane I a.k.a. No XII folding another paper aeroplane. Picking up one of them, I realize it's probably from the book she's been reading. She throws another one my way. "Stop doing that," I tell her.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

"What do I care?" She throws another one.

I brush it off my knees. "Stop it!"

"No!" Another one comes my way.

I pick one up from the floor and aim it at her. It misses her by quite a bit and it lands on the bed instead, but its close enough to tempt me to try again. So I do. And this time it hits her foot.

Her eyes narrow and she throws more aeroplanes at me.

This paper aeroplane war thing continues for a long time–except for the part where she ran out of paper. When that happened, she had gotten up, ran over to me, punched me a couple of times, grabbed a few paper aeroplanes and raced back to her bed–and I find myself forgetting to hope for the hour to be up.

It was a great surprise to see the door open and Aerith standing outside. I get up and run over to her. "So, I guess my one hour here is up, right?"

She nods and closes the door, ignoring the girl's insults and protests.

"Are we going to another room now?"

To my surprise, Aerith shakes her head. "Actually, you don't have to stay here anymore."

I freeze. "What?"

" Leon has come to the conclusion that you're perfectly sane. He said you can leave now."

I don't believe it. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. He's waiting for you outside." Then she starts walking.

I follow her silently, still wondering if this is a sick joke of some sort. But its not, because soon the door comes into view. I run towards the door and go outside.

…   
'Ah, beautiful sunlight. How I've missed you so…'

"Congratulations on getting out. That doesn't happen too often, you know."

I turn around to see the guy who first started all of this leaning against the wall. "Are you Leon?"

"Yes."

I remember wanting to kill this guy earlier but right now I'm too happy to care. "Can I seriously go home now?"

"Yes. Turns out you're not insane after all, so you're free to go."

'Oh my god! I'm free!!!' "Alright! I'm free and I'm going straight back home to find something to eat!"

"You be careful now," Aerith says as she closes the door.

"I guess you're really happy, huh?"

"Happy?! Of course, I'm happy! I'm beyond happy! I'm so happy I could jump off a building! I'm so happy–" I stop talking when I realize what I said. Turning around in alarm, I quickly say, "Not that I would jump off a building. I like being alive and I'm not going to jump of any buildings any time soon. No, sir. I'm perfectly happy this way." 'Please don't take what I said the wrong way. Please don't take what I said the wrong way.'

Leon and Aerith exchange looks and my heart sinks.

-----

"NO! I'm not going back in there! I am not going back in there! You can't make me!!"

"It's for your own good, Roxas," Aerith says, standing next to the door as Leon attempts to drag me back in.

"I didn't mean it! I swear I wasn't going to jump of a building! I really wasn't!!"

"You'll be much happier here." He manages to drag me in the rest of the way and Aerith closes the door.

It takes a lot of willpower to not start sobbing as I watch the remaining light from the sun disappear as the door blocks it out. And it's all I can do to not lose right then and there as Aerith flashes another smile at me and says, "Don't worry. We'll take of you."

My fucking life is over.

For the second time.

**Fin**

Phew, it's finally finished. This thing took a whole week to finish. I think all in all, it's a pretty stupid fic filled with nothing but a whole lot of crap and typos but what the heck. It was really a lot of fun to write anyway, even if most of it sucks.

Notice that most of the things Xigbar said was borrowed from the game? Well, it is.

Another note: The first time I put this up, more than half the entire fic was missing. Sorry if it confused anyone. And if anyone's interested in knowing, when I was trying to fix this thing was halfway done, my mom picked up the phone so the internet got disonnected and everything disappeared.

Every single word.

I apologize if this whole thing turned out to be a bore to you–the reader who was kind enough to take the time to stop by and read–because I know it is. Feel free to comment on this–mistakes included–, okay? You're reviews will be much appreciated. Thanks. 


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